May 9, 2013

maternal line skating futures in hans brinker passages...

FDR Memorial, Washington D.C.

the raining constrictive virtues at the social services building

I am felt in the unseen
part of my self-discussion therapy
a bus stop turnstile uterus
clicking counting system
I am overheard, in line
whispering about the woman
in front of me

how many kids do you have ma'am
can you have more ma’am
you know
every sperm is sacred ma'am

I pretend to look
like what John Cleese would do
the base pyramid system
heavy loading sarcasm
for the top to hold up
here, life is scattered
in the river wide wheat fields
in rolling hilled distances
here, life is what you can carry
you scour up intent
in the bowels and beauty
of an old city
you base hope in the salvaging
of each slow train wreck
of each pirate ship humanity
scuttled for comfort
in any of those moments
you were one away
from boarding to paradise

you ma’am can be construed
as a soft sandy bay
palm trees and saw grasses
fanning the wind
in washboard rhythms
an educational opportunity
spread throughout
this drop ceiling white light forest
windowed apathy disguised
as vacation literature
and free food

here ma’am, every morning is
our glossy thick matted design
scratch-off lottery chance
incapable of paying out
what our worth in ovum
and every day sunshine is
like that poster about malnutrition
we look for light, waiting for angels
in the form of answers and
helpful suggestions
but here, ma’am
it is always raining something
so I suggest you paint the underbelly
of your umbrella a bright yellow


1 comment:

  1. You have always been the master of poetic closure and your last four lines here, prove that.